


First

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Friendship, One Shot Collection, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-14 12:38:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7171781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of "Firsts" in the intertwined lives of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy :) I was feeling a little dry on the creativity, I got some great ideas from people on Tumblr. This one from an account called K3nobae; I enjoyed the inspiration, if you have a request, please feel free to send it in on a story! But for now, I hope you enjoy these :)

"That can't be the Jedi Master. He is my age.: It was a human man, standing almost resolutely silent; his hair cropped short, only a long braid over his shoulder. "They said nothing about his age, I suppose." And it was true, perhaps she was only being rash to thought, not giving him enough credit despite her minimal knowledge of the Jedi Order. They were contracted to protect her, that was all she knew.

Her head of security approached her, holding the bag of clothing and necessities she was to take with her. "Come, your Grace; the Jedi await your arrival."

"Of course," she said. For weeks, she had been preparing, both physically and emotional for this. Her muscles were tough, prepared for what would be difficult weeks in the terrain of the Mandalorian moons. She could not leave, the people would riot. But she could not stay on Great Mandalore; after the systematic execution of her parents weeks before, her life had been in constant risk. As well as Bo-Katan's, but being far younger, her death had been faked and she had been moved into one of the Military academies for Mandalorian children. To leave her behind would be difficult, but she knew it would not be a permanent separation. She would not allow for it.

She would not allow that for her sister or for her people, who needed her as a symbol to rally behind. She was their ruler by birth; the head of state and hope for peace. Her death could not be faked as Bo-Katan's could. The call for Jedi protection had not been her idea, only that of the Prime Minister who himself had been killed shortly after. The Senate would not be stirred to quick action, but this Jedi Master came with a strong reputation, and was said to be quite imposing. While this man, whose gaze seemed to follow, but never stay on her seemed very intelligent and reposed; he was not particularly intimidating. Perhaps if he grew a beard…

"Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn is waiting at your ship, Duchess." His name was definitely that of an off-worlder, though she had seen many Mandalorian infants leave for the ranks of the Jedi.

"Then who is that, Captain?" She gestured to the standing man, a Jedi from his attire. As if he was only noticing her for the first time. His gaze was intense, but betrayed nothing of what he thought. She had not seen him; he was not from Mandalore. But if the Jedi was waiting by thee ship, what business did this man have here?

"His assistant…ah, apprentice, I think. I'm not sure of the Jedi tradition, my lady." The man's attentions had returned elsewhere, though she noticed as she passed by him, that she might actually be older by perhaps a year. "He will be accompanying you as well."

She sighed. It was another thing to add to the list of things she already was accommodating. She had been coronated in a swift and private swearing in, mere hours after both her father and mother's death. She was embarking on who knew how long of a mission with a Jedi (and now his apprentice) she knew nothing of personally or professionally, and her sister was in the care of practically soldiers. She was numb; the only true feeling she could push through all of that being the desire to end all of it: this war, this mission, this isolation; and bring peace to a planet that seemed to have none of its own.

Another human man waited by the ship, she could see why this one had been called imposing. He towered over her, easily as tall as the entrance to the small speeder he was opening the hatch to. His hair was long and plaited into a ponytail down his back, his beard gave him an air of authority, but unlike his apprentice, his eyes seemed kind; as if he understood. "Hello." He said, his voice deep and on the edge of emotionless, tinged with warmth. "It is good to meet you, Duchess Satine. I am sorry for the circumstances that have led to this arrangement."

His bow, though deep, was not enough to bring him eye level with Satine, she noticed. "It is good to meet you as well, Master Jedi; though, if you don't mind me saying, I hope this will not last long."

"Nor do I." His voice was a slight laugh, but not cruel. It made her feel more at ease. "This is my Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi." She had not heard him approach; his steps must have been completely silent because the Captain seemed startled as well at his sudden approach.

"My lady." He said, and bowed to her cordially. His voice was even, though she could hear the hints of what promised to be a thick, Core World accent. What she had thought was brown hair was actually a dark ginger, and his eyes were ambiguous between blue and green and gray. He did not smile, but he also didn't frown. "It is an honor to meet you."

"You as well." She wasn't sure what to call him. If Qui-Gon was the Master, then that meant Obi-Wan was not. She would have to sort it out later. "We should be going."

"Obi-Wan will show you the ship. We will be on it for some time, out navigating the people who wish to find you, before we have a secure location to land." Master Jinn spoke again, gesturing with his hand to the ramp of the ship. "I need a final word with security before we depart."

She turned to see Obi-Wan step onto the ramp, expectant for her to follow behind him. She huffed slightly; wishing he would not be so silent.

"We have protein supplies that, stretched out over time, will last for two years. As well as replenishable water containers, fire starters, and basic forms of shelter." It was the most words she had heard him string together, it was all very formal. She nodded along, not particularly interested; not that she didn't have a vested interest in their survival, but she was distracted by the state of things she could see out of the window.

"Is there anything you would like to know?" He said suddenly; and she looked at him, seeing perhaps a glint of humor for the first time. She didn't find it endearing, or whatever his goal for it was. It was slightly infuriating.

"What would you prefer I call you?" She said. He blinked, the only outward sign of being startled.

"Obi-Wan would be fine, Duchess." He said. "It is my name, after all."

She raised her eyebrows at his callousness. "In that case, please call me Satine." He said nothing, merely blinking again. She took a seat on one of the provided chairs, observing the coordinates she saw inlaid there. He was silent, and took a seat across from her, his pale eyes seeming to track each motion across the projection in rapid concentration. She looked from the holo-screen to him, taking the time to observe him more carefully.

He was clearly intelligent; she had been correct about his accent. But there was something about him, an unnamable quality that both infuriated and intrigued her. Perhaps that was the way of the Jedi, although she didn't get that same feeling from his master. She watched him longer, his hardly blinking as he viewed the map before suddenly, his eyes met hers.

"Master Qui-Gon has returned, your Grace." He said, standing to move towards the cock-pit.

"Satine." She said suddenly, and he turned back to face her.

"I'm sorry?"

"It is my name after all." She replied, in his exact, monotonous inflection. And even though he paused and turned back around, she could have sworn she finally saw a smile grace his serious face.   
Quite a handsome face, if she had to admit it to herself.


	2. First Discussion

"Tell me about the Jedi Order." She said, lying on her back, looking upwards into what seemed like an infinitely starry sky. "What is it like?"

He didn't respond at first, and she thought he might simply be annoyed with her; he usually seemed that way when his Master left them alone as he scouted ahead. But as she sat up on her elbows to regard him, he instead looked contemplative. His hair had grown longer since they had been on the run; for over a month now, none of them had a haircut. He had stopped wearing the small ponytail in the back, and she noticed that now his hair was far more red where they had spent many long hours in the sun. He had managed to keep his face mostly shaven, though for a few days, it had been rather stubbly.

"I'm sorry if that was a bad question." She sat up fully now, pressing back away from the almost overbearing heat of the fire he had made for them.

"It wasn't." He spoke carefully, as if measuring out his words so that each was the same. "It is hard to describe the Order, I suppose. It is the only life I have known."

"What about your family?" She had heard rumors from families on Mandalore who had given children to the Order, and had never heard from them again. But she hadn't thought it was true.

"They are farmers on a planet called Stewjon. I do not know them." He answered, looking over at her. "Jedi are forbidden from attachments, philial or otherwise. The Order is our family."

She took a moment to think that through. Though her family had, of course, had its own issues as all families do; there had been a strong sense of love between them. After her brother had died as a small child, and she had been heralded as the heir to the throne, she had grown much closer to her father. Bo Katan had become close with their mother, and Satine hoped that when this was through, she could return to Bo Katan and they could rule Mandalore together. She was worried though, the military academies of Mandalore had becoming a breeding ground for violence and military idealists. Being severed from her sister had hurt; but she could not fathom what it had been like to never know a family.

"So, Qui-Gon is like your father, then?" The two men were close, though it was clear that Obi-Wan deferred to the older man. Qui-Gon had proven amicable and kind, he had soothed over many panics they had found themselves in the past few weeks.

"In a way, Masters serve as parental figures. We are trained by them for years, more than a decade. But it is part of the trials to become a Knight to allow this bond to be broken." She must have looked horrified. "Not completely, of course," he hurriedly added. "They are always a resource and mentor for you. One of the main purposes in a Jedi's life is to learn. But, we are forbidden form attachment. We have to learn to let go."

She tried to process it again. No attachment. No families, then. Or spouses. No children. No parents. No exceptionally close friends. "It all seems rather lonely." She said, choosing to be honest.

"No being is ever alone." To her surprise, he mimicked her earlier position, pushing up the sleeves of his tunic and lying flat on the ground. "The living force always surrounds us. It connects us in ways that cannot be understood."

She laid down next to him, and they existed in silence for a few moments. It occurred to her that this is the most he had talked in their weeks together. He was generally reserved, though quick-witted. He was powerful and intelligent; but preferred to let his Master do the leading on all aspects of the mission. She thought a little guiltily that she had perhaps judged him too quickly before, and she had simply been asking the wrong questions.

"What is it you plan to do in the Order then?"

"Qui-Gon thinks I should take the route and work as a Diplomatic Guardian."

She turned her head to look at him, seeing him looking over the grass at her as well. "And you want to do that as well?"

He laughed a little. "Perhaps. I've never considered myself much of a talker, if I'm being honest." He paused, and looked back up at the sky, blinking slowly. "As I'm sure you have noticed."

"it is not how much you speak, but what you say." She replied, citing an old adage she had gotten from her father. "Many people speak often and say nothing but nonsense."

He laughed, a deep resonant laugh. He had never laughed like that before, merely chuckles or smirks. She smiled to herself.

"With that sort of wisdom, you should be a Jedi." He said, with a garish wink before they both laid in silence. She thought about all that he had said, her own family and his Master so far away, before she felt herself fading into sleep; finally a feeling of the ice broken between them settling over her.


	3. First Fight

She has decided that violence cannot be a solution to a problem. Not only is violence never the answer, it should never be a choice. Qui-Gon has managed finally to connect them to one of the Holo news channels for Mandalore, and the carnage she can hear, even through the small device, is enough to keep her awake for hours after she should be sleeping. The large Jedi Master asks her gently if she would like him to find some plant or root or herb to help her sleep, but she refuses, instead sitting with her arms wrapped around her knees, chin resting on them as the Jedi go to sleep. Or so she thought.

She is sitting, the dead stillness of night feeling overwhelmingly claustrophobic, when he sits in front of her. It is Obi-Wan, who since their discussion of the code, has said all of ten words aloud to her directly. "I am sorry for your loss, Satine." He says softly, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would intrude on the night that has swollen so much around them.

"So much violence," She replies. "There can be no peace when violence is accepted." She knows her audience here, has seen the blue saber he yields with an expert's touch. But she will not lie. Not about this sort of thing. "How useful can war been when at the end, there are only false treaties and carnage?"

He was silent for a long moment, and she was briefly worried she had offended him greatly. The Mandalorian autumn swirled around them, for the first time a slight breeze breaking the silent night. "The Jedi do not condone war." He finally whispered. Not defensively. Only as if he too were questioning all that had occurred this past day.

"I'm sorry," She offered him a rare apology. "I didn't mean to say it so offensively. It is hard to accept the death of my people and do nothing. I should be there with them. No true leader would be here, hiding while brave people die to preserve peace."

"Qui-Gon always speaks that there is a proper time for everything, Satine. To live only in the moment, not the past which we cannot change, or the future that we cannot see." She heard the smile in his words at the last part. "I have trouble with it as well. But that is why I am learning."

"I'm not a Jedi." She was not. She was a Duchess. A flare of anger rose up in her. She didn't want him to lecture her on what was right and what was wrong. The finer points of Jedi instruction, and their protection of peace when he ardently has a lightsaber clipped to his belt, ready to cut down anything that stood in their way. "I will not condone violence for my own outcome."

"The Jedi are servants of the Republic; we fight only when necessary, and only when there is a chance that life will be lost." His voice had a slight edge to it now. When he had woken up, she realized he had probably done it simply as a friendly gesture, to help her with what he knew were difficulties she was facing. But that didn't matter. In her head, all she could focus on were the death tolls. The rising body counts, the innocent children, the government officials. All lost to violence that had no meaning.

"Your Order is not without violence." She said, trying to keep any anger form her voice. She was not angry at him, not really. "You have lightsabers for a reason."

"They are part of our connection to the force." He argued again. "Through them we are better able to connect with the unifying force that ties together the planets and galaxies and the non-living with the living. Without them, we are not Jedi."

"Have you ever killed anyone?" She interrupted his last phrase, not meaning too, exactly; but she had to know. He didn't answer at first, but she could feel his stare on her skin as if it were burning through the darkness. "It's alright," she added finally. "You can be honest, I just want to know."

"Yes." He said softly. She waited on a defense from him. A reason. An excuse. But it never came. And she realized something then, about Obi-Wan Kenobi. Despite what he said about the Jedi. About their code, honor, and ideals. Despite what he said about fighting for the security of the galaxy; there was a part of him that agreed with her. Something flared within her then, a small spark of some strange feeling she had never bothered with before. Or perhaps simply never noticed.

She had a feeling as well, that this would not be the last argument they had. That not all of them would end in peaceful silence, where his gaze had dropped from her, and she could finally feel the pull of sleep on her tired body. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

"For what?" She had stood, and turned too moved back to her own tent, but his voice stopped him. What was she thankful for, exactly? From this quiet Jedi who she now knew had killed another being. Who, simply by following his own ideals, might be violating hers.

"For being an honest friend."


	4. First Sacrifice

She's freezing to death. She's decided it definitively; having been drenched with rain and now exposed to skyrocketing winds that seem to cut through not only her clothes but her skin too, burrowing deep into her bones until all she wants to do is let it lull her into a deep sleep. It's late autumn on Mandalore, they've been at this for nearly two months, and she wants to laugh at the irony that the cold, not the terrorists, might be what kills her.

Qui-Gon is gone, he has been for several days, and she and Obi-Wan are sheltered within a cave that he found for them. Or, at least, she is sheltered while he is working. She doesn't touch the blankets for fear of getting them wet, so she sits with her back on the wall, not able to fully see what he is doing with only the pale, glowering moss for vision.

"Here." He says, and she watches as a long shadow is cast as a fire starts. The warmth starts at her fingers first, bringing feeling to them for the first time in an hour. She is grateful, murmuring her thanks to him; though she would now consider him to be an extraordinary friend, he is still a man of few words. She likes to think that maybe that will change when he is older and away from the influence of his master, but for now he is intelligently quiet, and their friendship revolves around only a handful of long-winded conversations. Words are an often unneeded luxury, and now is one of those times, when she feels sapped of strength.

She realizes though that the fire is going to do little about her wet clothes, and she resigns herself to a long night of damp discomfort. It won't be the first hardship she has dealt with, nothing to bother Obi-Wan with, or complain about either. She looks up, moving closer to the fire, the rock of the cave cold away from where she's been sitting for so long and let's a shiver run up her spine, only realizing he's looking at her a moment after.

She watches the flames for a moment, before she can see his shadow moving in the warm glow. She looks up, and immediately blushes to herself, mouth open in a slight gasp. Despite the fact that it's freezing in the cave, wind blowing enough to muss up his ever-elongating hair, he's peeling his tunic off.

"Here." He offers the cloth to her. "It should be long enough for you to be comfortable." He seemed to be a bit off color as well, not exactly meeting her eyes. "You can change over there if you like."

"I can't take your clothes, Obi-Wan." She said, but it's very tempting to grab the already warm brown cloth from his hand and shed the wet clothes she had been donning.

"You won't be. Only my shirt; I'd rather keep my pants if you don't mind." He said with a small smile, and she closed her hand around it. Very conscious of the fact that he was taking a good deal of care not to look at her, she shed her outer layers then wrapped the tunic around her. It was longer than what she would have thought, hanging loose even as she tied it, coming down to her knees. She came back and sat down beside him at the fire.

"Thank you." She said, looking at him proper in a traditional meditative, legs crossed and hands making a circle over his lap.

"You're welcome." He said simply, then flashed her a small smile in the dim light. "I didn't think it would be conducive to the mission if the Duchess of Mandalore froze in this cave."

She laughed at him, reveling in the warmth that was already coming from his tunic around her. She didn't feel exposed, even though the only layer of her own she had on was her underclothes that had remained somewhat mercifully dry; she felt safe and fully surrounded by him. She watched him as he regarded the fire, his eyes seeming to be following the flames as they danced around the pieces of dry wood he had managed to find.

Feeling slightly guilty, she took a moment to look over his now bare torso. Despite the fact that she could see slight goosebumps rising from the skin, she felt a small thrill go through her. Be it the Jedi lifestyle or their recent physical demands, he was lean but well-muscled; his abdomen defined, chest aligned with hard planes. His arms were strong, his hands calloused from wielding his lightsaber.

She looked up to his face, hoping he hadn't noticed her staring. His eyes were still on the fire, and she looked at his face. He was attractive, there was no denying that, and she had, as of late, found her thoughts wondering to him more often. Imagining certain aspects of what their relationship might be, something more than friendship; but she had discussed his Jedi Code with him as well, it didn't seem as if it might go that way. Even now, in what seemed like some dream romantic scenario, he had made no move towards her.

She smiled though; he was kind, intelligent. He cared for her, if only platonically. There was nothing more she could ask from him, and she would not do it either.

"Satine." He said slowly, as if he had been considering her name for a long while.

"Hmmm?" She glanced up, pulled from her own thoughts.

"I was wondering if we might both sleep over here, for heat of course." He looked over at her as if trying to gauge her reaction. "I mean…I suppose since I don't have a shirt, and you don't have pants, it might help us both a bit if we stay closer together."

She pulled her self forward, where her leg was pressed against his. "Just tell me when you're ready to sleep." She said, resting her head on her knees.

It might have been her imagination, or a trick of the fire, but his face seemed to burn red as she got close, pressing tight to him. She felt the spark where they were connected, skin to cloth, and smiled to herself. Perhaps she had been too quick to judge. Perhaps he could be more than simply a friend.


	5. First Kiss

"I'm so sorry." How many times had he said that in the past twenty minutes? With his steady hands, the cut didn't even hurt anymore, only an occasional sting as he worked to fasten a makeshift bandage over it. In truth, she was far more distracted by other sensations. For long days, since they had arrived on Draboon a small moon of the Mandalore system, they had spent an inordinate amount of time alone together. Many nights while his master scouted routes days in advance, were spent only in his company; having quiet conversations as the cool winds of autumn gave way to the light snows of winter. Together they had made shelters, conjured fires, scrounged for fresh foods to supplement their protein diet, and each evening had been spent in solitary company, the background noise the sound of far off firebombs and felled trees, but the only thing she focused on were his words.

He was an intellectual, that much had been obvious from the beginning. Not particularly social, but not unfriendly. Easier to talk to than talk with, but now he would speak with her, argue with her while maintaining respect, hear her opinions and meet them with his own. She had noticed and she knew he had too; that they had begun to gravitate to each other.

And now, she was sitting, her shirt discarded so her could reach the scar that rested above her hips, and she could feel his warmth breath against her skin, in a veritable contrast from the cool air that blew around them. She could tell, from the strain, that he was trying his best not to touch her bare skin, not to look at her unless he had to (even though she still had on her bra). But she couldn't ignore the feelings between them, now almost edging her to push back against him.

There was so much that had happened; he had effectively saved them. And, exhausted from carrying her, running for almost four kilometers with her in his arms after being swarmed by venomites, he had stumbled. He had pushed himself under her, but her hip had scraped a rock, only allowing her a small cut while she knew his injuries were much worse. But his guilt had been almost tangible, he had refused to help himself before she was treated.

"It should be fine." She felt his fingers smooth out the bandage, the slight turn sending a slight shock through her. But he moved away, dropping her shirt back in her lap where she pulled in back over her head. He sat back, removing his own tunic, now torn and bloodied, and began to treat the plethora of cuts and bruises that decorated his torso. She watched him for a moment before moving to help as he tried to reach a still bleeding cut on his back.

"Let me help." He hesitated, but relented and handed her the rag where she could dab at the blood. She worked methodically, trying as he had not to look down at his bare torso, though it was difficult while treating his wounds. It might have been the cold, but as he hands moved over a cut on his chest, smoothing a line of bacta across them, a small line of gooseflesh emerged along the path.

Finally it was done, her hands finishing the last of the wounds on his shoulder. "Thank you." His breath was still warm, his voice breathier than she remembered. Even though her mind was telling her it might be a bad idea, that it might be the end of their friendship and the start of something explicitly forbidden, she turned her eyes to his. Her hand slid from his shoulder to cup his jawline, eyes boring into his.

"You're welcome." One of his arms came around her waist, the other trailing through her hair so lightly she could barely feel it. She leaned forward, shifting her knees to press closer to him, everything that had come crashing on her the past few months was pushed to the forefront of her mind.

And she kissed him, sliding a hand through his ever-lengthening hair, cupping twisting her fingers in the ends as he returned her affections. Ever worry she had disappeared as he kissed her back, using his arm to pull her form the ground to his lap, the feel of his warm skin close to her body, the taste of his mouth heavy on her tongue.

She decided she didn't care about the consequences; there were things far more important.


	6. First Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mature Chapter! Be warned, please! Please R and R as well :)

**(A/N) This is mature content people, I just didn’t want to post a separate story. If not 18, skip and roll tide to the next one! Sorry for any confusion, and thanks for your support!**

 

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, his breathing heavy as he pulled back. “We need to stop, Satine.” She knew he was right, but that was the furthest thing from what she wanted to do. She was wrapped around his lap, unconsciously grinding her hips into his erection through the cover of his pants. They were sheltered in a hollow tree, the ones that grew on the far side of Mandalore with trunks the size of a small building. They were alone, for several days now, as the winter of Mandalore closed in and it became more and more difficult for Qui-Gon to return to them.

“You say almost nothing for months,” She laughed, pressing her lips against his neck and tracing down to his shoulder, sucking gently. “And now you say the one thing I don’t want you to say.” He laughed, the sound changing to a groan as she ran a hand down his bare chest to his abdomen. She could feel him reacting to her touch, the bulge in his pants stiffening with each scrape of her fingers or gentle kiss across heated skin.

“That doesn’t change that we should stop.” He said again, but the meaning of his words was lost as he kissed her again, his tongue passing through her open lips and into her mouth. He tasted of fruit, the diner they had shared only a while ago, and his hands were more insistent as she groaned into his kiss.

“Tell me you want me to stop.” She pressed her forehead to his, “And I will.” His eyes didn’t move from hers. It was a bold move, there was a fair chance that he would push her away, retreat back into the shell that he always seemed to find. But he didn’t, instead his hands moved to the base of her stomach, finding her shirt hem and tugged it over her head.

The air was cold, but his hands were warm as they moved over her back and stomach. “Or we could do something else.” She shuddered, recalling memories of the last time he had seen her like this, when he was treating her cut on Draboon. Moments later, as if reading her mind, his fingers traced the scar that laid there now. She grasped at his head, twisting her fingers into his hair and pulling him in close as she pressed a kiss to his lips again. His hands never stilled, holding her hips, tracing fingers up her stomach, stopping at her bra line.

His lips broke from hers, kissing her cheek, her jaw, her throat down to the tops of her breasts being pushed upwards by her bra. “Take it off.” She said, and there was no hesitation in his moves as he undid the clasp. He was silent for a moment. As if they were actual markers, she could feel his eyes on her body, but a smile came to her lips as she felt his erection grow again, pressing into her body in a way that shot pure electricity through her.

“Lay down,” He supported her, keeping her legs around his waist as he lowered her back onto their makeshift palette of blankets. He kissed her again, her hands now running down the expanse of his back, slightly sweat slicked, but exposed to the cool breeze.

One of his hands came up to caress her breast, his palms pressed against the smooth skin, his fingers creating electric paths across them. He covered both of them, squeezing lightly to elicit a moan from between her lips before one of his thumbs found her nipples. Pulling back from her lips, he watched his own work over her breasts, his bulge pressing between her still-covered legs.

“Force, you’re beautiful.” His eyes moved back to hers, a gesture that meant more to her than she could say, even as his fingers continued to work her breasts.

“I bet you say that to all the women.” She smiled, but he shook his head, blushing slightly, very serious.

He placed a kiss to the tip of her nose, then down her body to breasts. He sucked at the hardened peaks of her nipples, and she realized she was grinding her hips into his, the friction drawing amazing sensations through her body. When he was done with her breasts, she felt his hands moved down to her pants, undoing the button and clasps that held them together before starting to work them down her legs. He moved back from between her legs, captivated by each inch of skin that was exposed to him as he went, running his hands over her legs the moment they were free of their confines.

His hands were amazing, the right mix of gentle and exploratory as he worked over her legs, stopping at her inner thighs. She had been working her hands over his back, and as he stopped, she squeezed his backside through his trousers, earning an embarrassed laugh form the Jedi apprentice as her fingers worked to undue the strings. He couldn’t meet her eyes, instead watching as she peeled the cloth from his hips and legs, finally letting his kick them off.

His legs were dusted with the same ginger hair that was sprinkled across his chest, a shade darker than the hair on his head. He was incredibly fit, his calf and thigh muscles defined, but she was far more focused on the erection bulging under the thin cover of his boxer briefs. Moving her hands over the backs of his thighs, she slid one hand around to palm at the bulge. He closed his eyes and groaned, his hips bucking into her hand as she moved over his through his underwear. “Satine…” He gasped, and she pulled back, moving the hand to his navel.

Her fingers curled at the sides of his hips, and he looked at her eyes as she watched the fabric slide down his legs, freeing him from their confines. Her eyes widened, her throat a little dry with sudden nervousness. But also aching with arousal, the space between her legs getting wetter at his small sigh of relief as his underwear came free of his legs.

Her hand rested on his thigh, before sliding over and stroking him gently. He moaned, a loud, uncharacteristic noise that had her arch her hips with straight shots of arousal. Her hand moved slowly, feeling him hardening even more at her touch, his groans coming out freely from between her lips; her thumb passing over his tip, a small bead of liquid gathering at the top.

With another groan, he didn’t wait on her top stop, leaning back to tug her panties from her legs, meeting her eyes as he slid his fingers along her core. One finger split between the folds of skin, and she arched her back into his touch as he found her throbbing clitoris, pinching it between two fingers gently.

She gasped loudly, grasping at his shoulderblades. “Don’t stop.” It seemed to invigorate him, his fingers moving from there to her entrance that was getting steadily wetter, ready for his touch. He worked steadily, brushing her nerves with his knuckles as his fingers moved around her opening, fully encouraged by her noises.

“Stop.” She said, and he pulled back immediately, alarm on his features. Until he saw her face, undisguised desire written into it. But she could see that he was nervous as well, though it was clear he wanted her. “Make love to me.” Instead he leaned down, pulling her into another deep kiss, this one hinting at the verge of something incredible and undefined.

“Are you ready?” He asked against her lips, his breathing heavy.

“Yes.” She wrapped hands over her shoulders, keeping him close as he moved a hand back to guide himself into her. She felt the pressure as he pushed inside, gradually inching himself inside of her with a soft moan. She gasped against a slight of pain as he moved, trying to push past the sensation with her desire for him.

“Are you alright?” He asked, pausing at her gasp. She simply nodded, letting out another moan as he slid fully inside of her. The friction as he moved into her, stretching her in all the right places, hovering over her.

“Move, Obi.” She said, and he started the slow thrusting of his hips, staying inside of her. She held tight to his shoulders, doing her best to grind her hips back onto his as he moved his hips steadily into her, groaning freely between hiss to her neck and shoulder.

“Satine.” He panted out, thrusting fully back into her body, a moan being torn from both of them. “You feel…you are…this is…amazing.” He had almost lost his ability to think clearly, the ability to form complete sentences lost in her body.

She could feel, with each thrust into her body, that he was getting close to his release, trying to hold off for her. She was close too, not knowing what she needed. Until his fingers slid down her stomach, moving between her legs to give a firm press to her clitoris. She screamed her release, feeling her body clench around him buried inside of her, feeling him release into her body with a shout of her name as her muscles clenched around him.

They stayed together, him barely staying held above her. He breathed hard into her shoulder, and she could feel the coolness of the winter breeze through the wood of the tree as her body rode down its high. He slid out of her slowly, leaving her feeling oddly hollow and wet between the legs; but satisfied, in a whole way that she had never felt before. He pulled her in for a kiss before moving to lay on his side, wrapping an arm around her to hold her close on the palette of clothes.

“Are you alright?” He asked her, and she pressed a kiss to his chest. She would be sore when morning came, but now was not the time to worry about that. She was being lulled into a deep sleep, comforted by him even as he pulled a loose blanket around them, her thoughts reminiscing at the sound of his moans in her ear and the feel of his hands on her body that was shadowed now by the strong arms he had wrapped her now.

“I’m more than alright, Ben.” She said, pulling closer to him, knowing that they should redress to ward of the cold, but not truly wanting to move from her spot. He seemed to be of the same sentiment, calling over their jackets to make makeshift pillows, and his discarded tunic to add another layer of heat. She looked up at him, his eyes blinking more and more heavily as he was being drawn into solitary rest.

He pressed a kiss to her hair as she settled her head on his chest; her thoughts the most relaxed they had been since leaving the palace so long ago.

But as he began to breathe deeply below her head, her thoughts faded to that twilight time between waking and deep sleep. There was something missing here, the night had been perfect but missing the three words that would have made her feel fully complete. She realized she had not said them to him either, that he was not the only one refraining from a confession of love. But still, even as his hand tightened on her hip in some reflex of sleep, she couldn’t help but wonder what the morning might bring for them both.

 


End file.
